Promise Me, Ned
by Shinobhi
Summary: Note: I know that among the ASOIAF fanbase, Rhaegar and Lyanna equals Jon Snow is pretty much accepted canon. And I'm sure I'm not the first to have written a fanfic like this. However, I do hope you'll enjoy my version of how Jon Snow's birth went down.


Eddard rode towards the tower. He wasn't accustomed to this horse; it was a rough, heavily built thing, good for scaling the mountains of Dorne, but nothing like the warhorse he had gotten so used to in recent times.

He could already see it: it was a simple stone spire, the remnant of some lord who had once attempted to make his seat here, perhaps in the days right before the Targaryen dynasty, the Rhoynish Invasion, or even the days of the First Men. None knew, and none could say. Not that Eddard particularly cared; what was more important to him was what the tower held.

Ned rode up to the tower, and dismounted his horse. The mare whinnied as Ned entered the tower, whose interior was dimly lit.

Since Ned didn't have a torch, he had to stand inside a while in order to allow his eyes in order to adjust them to the dark. "Hello?" he called. "Is anyone here?"

Silence. Then soft breathing, almost like that of a cat. He climbed the spiral steps leading to the higher floors of the tower. The structure was simply built: each floor was simply one room.

Finally, Ned came to the top stairs, and his eyes locked with those of a woman's. Small amounts of light flowed into the room from the windows that the top floor boasted, and Ned could see her face: long yet beautiful, with dark brown tresses and grey eyes twin to his own. The woman wore a blue gown, and lay in a bed sopping with blood. She clutched to her chest two things: a sleeping baby and a bouquet of blue winter roses, the type she had loved so much ever since she was a girl.

Eddard ran to the bed. He propped the woman somewhat upright, and grabbed her hand. "Lyanna! Oh gods, the blood… It's all right, we can save you! We'll take you back to Winterfell, and Maester Luwin will give you some kind of poultice to heal the bleeding and-"

Lyanna managed a weak smile. "No, Ned…I can't. Dorne is too far away, and I don't have much time left." She sighed. "At least… At least I was finally able to properly love my knight of Dragonstone… and have his lovely little dragon…" Ned then turned his attention to the babe in her arms. "No, no, no…" was all Eddard could manage. "If Robert finds out-"

Lyanna chuckled. "It's good that he looks more wolf than dragon, hm?" She let out a long, drawn breath. "I want him to be safe. I want our promised prince to grow up, to love a woman, and have his own little babes that he loves at the end of each day."

Ned fumbled. "How…?"

Lyanna grasped his hand. "Take him to Winterfell. I want him to grow up with brothers and sisters who will play with him and play at swords with him the way we did as children. Promise me, Ned. Promise me…" Lyanna said as her eyes rolled back in her head and closed.

"Lyanna! Wait! What's his name? No, you can't leave me! No…." Eddard Stark had learned from a young age that a good lord didn't show his tears, but he couldn't hold it in. He leaned over on the bed and wept. He had come all this way, and for what? He was the _worst_ Lord of Winterfell ever: so what if he had just helped Robert defeat the Mad King? He couldn't even save his own sister. Ned wished that Brandon had still been alive: _he_ would have been able to save Lyanna.

"Lady Stark! It's your husband! He's come home!" Catelyn stood up, and lifted the baby in her lap to her face. "Isn't this great, little Robb?" she cooed to the baby. "Father's home!" Holding the child in her arms, she went to the gates to greet Ned. She saw men on horses riding in, and finally, her lord husband, on a gray stallion. The first of Cat's fears had dissolved the moment that the serving girl had told her that Ned was home, but the second manifested the instant that she saw what was in Ned's arm: an infant.

Ned dismounted his horse, and Catelyn got a better look at the babe. Yet another pang of fear and anger hit her: the sleeping child in her husband's arms looked more like Eddard than the one in her own. Her smile dissolved into a look of horror and disbelief as she turned to Ned. "Ned…" she began to say.

Eddard sighed. "I'm sorry, Catelyn… I broke the vows of our union. But if you can find it in yourself to inflict your anger on me, and not this child, then please, let him grow up with Robb as a brother. Let him grow up as a Stark."

Tears began falling from Catelyn's eyes. "Why…? Who is the…?"

Ned had a stern look on his face. "He is of my blood. Ask me no more." He turned to the babe, and gave it a long, sad look. "His name is Jon." Eddard had named him for the man who had raised him like a son, and supported him in his quest to rescue his sister. "Jon Snow."


End file.
